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#idk what the last one is called
milkbreadtoast · 6 days
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idk how i want to draw him yet and not ready to make a srs attempt but here's a bad kdj phone doodle lol🚶🏻
#orv#kim dokja#omniscient reader's viewpoint#my art#oh yeah i didnt have ref for this fkdnfn was going off memory of the last (first) time i drew him#i cant do a serious attempt tho bc i havent read the novel so i dont have a clear image of him in my head yet...#(dont want to just copy the webtoon design hastily... if it matches my image thats fine but... idk yet)#my main opinion on the webtoon design is he's too hot/ikemen tho KFJDKDJ (this is what i thought since the beginning)#its like BONES mp100 anime reigen.... kdj is like manga reigen to me /j#but who knows maybe if i catch kdj brainrot i too will start drawing him like a kpop idol out of affection...🤷🏻‍♂️#like the webtoon artist prob draws kdj pretty bc they love him sm#just like how i draw jys pretty bc of my brainrot...#so who knows maybe that will happen to me too🤷🏻‍♂️ time will tell#my main opinion on webtoon yjh (no one asked): CUTE BUT WHERES THE T1TTY BEL- *voice muffled as i get dragged away*#(copied most of these tags from twit too lazy to retype the commentary)#EDIT: i call him reigen jokingly bc theyre abt the same age but#kdj is also mob core to me....#in that theyre both protags that dont look flashy and look more like extras/'mob charas'#yet r irrevocably unequivocably the protags of their respective stories#(just as everyone is the protag of your own life! sieze ur narrative! etcetc🖤)#also. both black haired bowlcut havers KJDJS#kdj is reigen coded (derogatory) and mob coded (POS)#hes also a 'con man like reigen..... yep hes def still reigen coded
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kazuaru · 2 months
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"Trendy" Lookbook!
(Left Side Looks)
hair | top** | skirt | heels | necklace | bag🔞 | rings
hair | dress | socks | shoes | choker**| earrings | bracelet*
(Right Side Looks)
hair+strand | glasses | top | skirt | tights | boots | earrings* | necklace* | rings
hat | hair | glasses | top | shorts | boots | acc phone
(**) = early access | (*) = simsfinds/tsr warning
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prokuon · 2 years
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some Lost Hero Trio sketches !!!!
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karizipan · 4 months
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can anyojen hear me PLEASEEEEE
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bodega-catto · 1 month
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endlesslytired · 8 months
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I feel like I'm going insane making these
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aeb-art · 3 months
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soooo… i did another comic with geo (who of course belongs to @8um8le)! it ending up stretching the page quite a bit, so the rest is under the cut o7
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and geo proceeded to win every single round of pool that night, the end, thank you for reading this far 🙇
i'm still not super confident in writing for geo, but i had too much fun with this to care ehehe 🥰 this is the year of indulgence, everyone!
edit: i just realized that I PUT THE CICUITS ON THE WRONG ARM! it's supposed to be on my right not my left, oh i'm so mad 😭💔
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comradekatara · 3 months
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the thing about the adult gaang movie is even if it’s somehow done really well, i don’t wanna see aang and katara as adults, that will actually make me really sad. whereas if sokka is the protagonist that’s fine because i already think everyone should heal and find fulfillment after the war except for sokka. i think sokka should get worse. i think sokka should continue collecting mental illnesses like they’re pokemans creatures. a qing dynasty court intrigue film with sokka navigating ba sing se politics (and iroh can feature as he dispenses occasional wisdom. but sokka is just like “call your son”), or a xai bau spy thriller (except tbh this one would work better as a novel), or even just. a mai and sokka roadtrip movie in the style of an early 2000s stoner comedy (this one would have no artistic merit but it’s also probably the best idea ive ever had). these are but a few examples of the many ideas i have for movies that put my favorite guy through hours of suffering without having to depict my other favorite guys as anything other than the precious babies i know and love.
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ao3screenshotss · 5 months
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exam core is searching up how to safely build a bonfire cause i wanna burn all of my notes after i’m finished
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raiiny-bay · 4 months
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more outtakes
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hellsite-detective · 1 month
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Hellsite Detective in...
The Bad Banana
it was another cool day in Tumblr City. the breeze was blowin' through the streets and the rain was poundin' down hard against my window. the ceilin' fan that hung above me spun slowly and hypnotically as if blown by a wind that wasn't present. as i sat there in my chair, smokin' my cigar and watchin' that fan spin eternally, i grew hungry. thankfully i keep a small fruit bowl in the corner. gettin' up to go grab a bite, i picked a banana out of the bowl. it was a bright yellow, but you might not have known it from the monochromatic filter over the scene. as i began to unpeel it, a voice spoke from the back of my head sayin'...
...hold on...
...go ahead...
...what...
naturally confused, i spun around to see if someone had snuck in while my back was turned. but no, no one was there. however, the words continued to resound in my head. almost like they were callin' me to somethin'. i walked over to the window and took a look outside and the traffic lights at the intersection caught my eye. i looked at them, and looked back at the banana in my hand. that's when it hit me...
see, there was a post i've been lookin' for for ages. in fact, it was the post that inspired me to open my office up in the first place. it was a post comparin' the colors on bananas to the colors on traffic lights. back then, i couldn't find it. but now? i had the experience i needed. i decided to re-open this personal case of mine.
i tucked the banana into my coat and strolled through the rainy streets. i came across that hoppin' joint with jazz music always pourin' out the doors onto the street. the neon sign above the door read "The Search Bar." i headed inside, ready to do some business with my associate, but they were nowhere to be seen. they weren't sittin' at their normal booth. curious, i decided to ask the new robot bartender for help...
say, doll, you know where i can find the Boss?
[Oh! I do apologize. Don Google is upstairs in their office, but they are not seeing any visitors today.]
heh, well we'll see about that, won't we? say, what's your name?
[I am H.A.V.E.N. It stands for Hostess Attending to Virtual and Informational Needs. Essentially, my purpose is to keep track of Don Google's database so they do not have to. I also serve the drinks.]
Haven, huh? nice to meetcha, Haven. i gotta go see the Don though, whether they like it or not. i'll be seein' you later.
i tipped my hat to Haven and walked to the door leadin' to the stairwell. my mind lingered on the robotic hostess, wonderin' what an advanced artificial intelligence construct like her was doin' in this world that had it's basis in 1940's noir, but i wasn't gonna think about it too much. i headed up the stairs and into the Don's office. their goons whipped out their guns and almost took my head clean off, but the big fella themself stopped it.
the office was a far cry from the bustlin' night club on the first floor. where as the club had neon lights and kept things rather dark, probably for the best, the office was more well lit and elegant. it held a more warm atmosphere than the club, but somehow it was more oppressive in here. the walls appeared to be made of wood, bookshelves lined the walls, and a chandelier hung from the ceilin'. there was a carpet in the center of the room that had a kaleidoscope of colors rangin' from blue, red, yellow, and green. and directly across from the door was the desk. mahogany, it seemed, and real fancy too. a giant round window overlookin' the city streets was placed behind it with a large letter "G" formed in the window frames. the Don spun around in their large leather chair and puffed on their cigar.
"'Ey there, Miss Detective. What can I do ya for?"
i'm lookin' for a post involvin' bananas. specifically in relation to traffic lights. you got anythin' like that for me?"
i set the banana i had brought down on the desk and they chuckled at the sight.
"Yea, I think I got what your lookin' for."
with a wave of their hand, one of their goons fetched a file from off one of the shelves and brought it over to them. they thumbed it open with one hand, the other hand draggin' on the cigar. they slid it across the desk.
"This what your lookin' for?"
and there it was. the post that started it all. it had finally come full circle. i grabbed the file eagerly and began to leave the room, but the Don wasn't finished with me yet.
"'Ey, Miss Detective! Don't think I've forgotten about that little favor you owe me..."
i stopped dead in my tracks. preparin' myself for the worst, i stood there frozen. i couldn't even turn around to look at them. but shockingly, the conversation took a different turn.
"I'm not lookin' to cash that in just yet. Just be on the look out for a call, got it? I'm lookin' forward to our partnership."
i couldn't see them, but i knew their snide smile was bearing down on me at that moment. fear filling my body, i left the lion's den and went back to my humble office to file my prize away. as i did so, my stomach rumbled...
damn it. i left the banana with the Don...
Post Case: Closed
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seagull-scribbles · 1 year
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RED NOSE DAY 🔴
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hum--hallelujah · 8 months
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like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid
Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.
"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.
Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.
"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.
"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.
Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-
"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."
Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."
Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.
There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.
"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.
"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.
In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.
"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.
Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.
In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.
"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.
Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."
Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.
Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.
"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."
Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.
"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.
He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.
He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.
Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.
"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.
"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.
It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.
Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.
The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.
He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.
"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"
Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.
"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."
Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.
Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.
Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.
The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.
"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.
"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.
"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."
Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."
A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.
"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."
"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.
Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."
"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.
"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"
Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.
Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.
It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.
He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?
If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.
There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.
"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.
Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.
"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.
Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.
Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.
"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.
"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.
"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"
Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."
It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.
Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."
"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.
Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."
Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.
Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."
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poisonousquinzel · 2 months
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okay at this point we're gonna have to accept that any attempts of a live action ATLA will always be cursed and will never be a good alternative to just watching (pirating cause fuck nickelodeon) the cartoon because what the fuck do you mean they're taking out gigantic chunks of Sokka, Katara and Aang's arcs/development/characteristics, showing the genocide at the Southern Air air temple and more of the Agni Kai between Zuko and Ozai while simultaneously having the gall to say "I mean, the characters, we had to dimensionalize them-"
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The Big Netflix Avatar: The Last Airbender Producer Interview: 'This Is a Remix, Not a Cover'
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There are certain scenes that you never saw in the original, whether it's the attack on the Southern Air Temple or the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko. And those are things that I knew we needed to see in order to make it feel much more grounded as a live-action show. So it was about feeling your way throughout the process. Where can we take the story into the new directions that still feels true to the spirit of the original? And that's what it all comes down to, making sure it feels like it was Avatar in spirit.
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Bending the Rules
And going back to those narrative liberties, was there anything in particular where you were like, “no, this is set in stone. This can’t change”?
AK: There's a lot of things like that, starting with the characters. I mean, the characters, we had to dimensionalize them, but there are certain core ... I would say there's a core DNA to the characters that you don't want to mess with, whether it's Aang, like I said, his childlike goofiness, his sense of humor, the burden of his responsibility, Sokka and his humor and his pragmatic outlook on life, Katara's warmth and her optimism. Those things had to carry through into our version. So you start with the characters, and you say, "What's the essence of the characters that got a big change? And what's the room where we can expand it a little more?" The cartoon, for as great as it was, was 15 years ago. And so, things have changed. There are certain roles I think that Katara did in the cartoon that we didn't necessarily also do here. I mean, I don't want to really get into a lot of that, but some gender issues that didn't quite translate.
My friend just watched it for the first time, and she's like, "Sokka's an asshole." I was like, "Yeah, no, he kind of is."
JR: Yeah, especially in the first season.
AK: Yeah. So we had to guard against that kind of stuff. And so, those are things that aren't really changing a character as so much as updating them a little bit.
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I think one of the big questions is, despite all the remixing, is the point A and the point B still the same as the original?
AK: Pretty much. Yeah, I mean, I think the state of the world and the stakes of the world are still the same. So we decided to make Aang's narrative drive a little clearer. In the first season of the animated series, he's kind of going from place to place looking for adventures. He even says, "First, we've got to go and ride the elephant koi." It's a little looser as befits a cartoon. We needed to make sure that he had that drive from the start. And so, that's a change that we made. We essentially give him this vision of what's going to happen and he says, "I have to get to the Northern Water Tribe to stop this from happening." That gives him much more narrative compulsion going forward, as opposed to, "Let's make a detour and go ride the elephant koi," that type of thing. So that's something, again, that's part of the process of going from a Nickelodeon cartoon to a Netflix serialized drama.
And they say in regards to the original creators leaving: "But sure, having them leave was a blow. And we had to think about whether or not the vision that we had set forward really reflects and honors the spirit of what they had created. And we felt like it did, so we went forward with it. " idk y'all should've taken the hint goddamn ...
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AK: But sure, having them leave was a blow. And we had to think about whether or not the vision that we had set forward really reflects and honors the spirit of what they had created. And we felt like it did, so we went forward with it.
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If you could send fans who are anxious about the live-action show any message, what would it be?
JR: I think, as a fan of the show, they're going to get the live-action version of the show they've always hoped they would get.
Albert, anything to add?
AK: This is the version of Avatar that I would want to see as a fan.
- Netflix ATLA Showrunner Albert Kim & Executive Producer/Director/VFX Supervisor Jabbar Raisani
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like this ain't coming across like a remix, this is just empty meaningless noise
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Soooo for the future AU with married Kim and Ramona, who do you think would take whose last name?? Or would they double barrel them?? Or not mess with their last names at all? Was literally lying awake thinking about this last night it means far too much to me
Oh man... much to consider...
Obviously, the funny/correct (/j) answer is they end up hyphenating it as Pine-Flowers.
But honestly like.. either of them taking the others name is also so cute? Kim Flowers, Ramona Pine.... they make me very 💞💞💞
(Flowers-Pine is also a fine order for the hyphenated take, and arguably more funny since Pine-Flowers is right there, but I think Pine-Flowers has better flow, ya know?)
Of course, this is taking at as a "legitimately married" au as I have taken you to posit here,, whenever I think about their future selves, personally, I've been thinking about it like "yeah Ramona's still married to Scott actually. This changes nothing for me" ahfduksfjdh
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